Some Nights

I've been awake at night,

Wondering over things,

That disturb my might

To curb my cringe.

As I lay awake,

And think to myself

To work in ways

That I cannot help.

So, I go to the kitchen,

And I take a glass,

I stare at the sickened

And dirty shard.

I pick up the pieces,
And get another quickly,

I pour some water,

And then add the whiskey.

I drink to myself,

Celebrating nothing at all,

And that's what melts

The vile and gall.